


Canis America

by ChibiSquirt, iwillnotbecaged



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Animal Transformation, Background Rhodey/Carol, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Marvel Cameos, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 11:47:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12210669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibiSquirt/pseuds/ChibiSquirt, https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillnotbecaged/pseuds/iwillnotbecaged
Summary: When the Avengers get called in to help with a rogue magician in Central Park, Sam gets caught in the crossfire and finds himself stuck in the body of a 3-month-old Belgian Malinois puppy. He's adorable, but it's kind of hard to carry the shield when he's tripping over his own paws.





	Canis America

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so so so much to ChibiSquirt for the fantastic art - I had a blast working with you!
> 
> Thanks also to the squad for your constant encouragement and input, and especially to Lauren for the inspired title.
> 
> Finally, thanks to the SWBB mods for putting together such an awesome event and for their incredible kindness and patience. Y'all are heroes.

Sam rolls his shoulders, resettling his wingpack on his back, and lifts the shield. He slings it onto his back, the magnets lock on, and he’s ready to go.

Or, well, as ready as he can be.

Sam loves being Captain America, he really does, but this month has seen a serious uptick in activity requiring the Avengers’ attention and it’s beginning to wear on him. Steve had tried to convince him to skip this mission and take a day off — which was pretty rich, coming from him — but Sam hadn’t thought it was a good idea. The new team has been doing well and is really starting to click under Rhodey’s leadership, but they _are_ still new and the public hasn’t totally warmed to them yet.

He knows it’s more than just the fact that they have new members, that some people will always resent him and Rhodey and Miles and Kamala and there’s nothing he can do about that, but he doesn’t want to give them any more ammunition. There’s no way his absence on a mission, especially a local one, would go unremarked on and he’d really rather not have to deal with it.

So here he is, gearing up with the team, ready to deal with whoever it is that’s currently wreaking havoc in Central Park.

Rhodey clears his throat and Sam turns his attention toward him.

“Alright, team. We appear to be dealing with a human magician today. We’ve been asked to apprehend the magician and bring her in for questioning. This is the third in a series of incidents that have come to SHIELD’s attention and Director Hill believes there’s someone more important behind them all pulling the strings. Cap and I will fly Spider-Man and Ms. Marvel into the park to start evacuating civilians and then take up defensive positions. Scarlet Witch will move herself and the Winter Soldier into position, and the four of us will close in and try to take the magician down. Any questions?”

There’s a chorus of “no, sirs” and Rhodey nods. “Okay then. Avengers assemble!”

Sam grabs Kamala and heads toward the blue and purple sparks flashing up into the air from below the trees. He drops her off and then circles the magician, trying to figure out what she’s up to. They set up a perimeter, him and Rhodey in the air, Wanda and Bucky on the ground. The magician is hovering a few feet above the ground waving her arms, and all around her benches and light posts and trash cans are twisting and shifting into metal animals of all kinds.

Wanda wrestles control of the attacking forms away from the magician while Bucky attempts to sneak up on her from behind. She manages to stop a leaping park bench — is that a lion? tiger? — right before it pounces on Bucky, but it causes the magician to spot him and they lose the element of surprise. 

The magician heads in Bucky’s direction, hands gesturing threateningly, and Sam’s heart leaps into his throat. He fires in front of the magician to try and force her back. “We need to get her contained,” he says into the comms. “All that hand-waving makes me think she isn’t doing this with just her mind.”

The magician flails again and Rhodey dodges a flying trash can-turned-pterodactyl. “Yeah, I see what you mean. Spider-Man, what’s your location?”

“Just dropped off the last few civilians and headed back in.”

“Get here quick — and when you do, wrap her up!”

Sam watches as Miles swings out of the trees and starts flinging himself around the magician, wrapping her legs in webbing. The magician startles and drops out of the air, taking Miles with her. Sam circles, looking for an opening to get in and stop her while she’s distracted by Miles. He’s just begun to dive when a beam of light shoots from the magician straight toward Miles. Sam yells, but Bucky is closer and jumps in front of Miles, deflecting the magic off his metal arm and right at Sam.

It happens so fast that he can’t do a thing. The shield is still on his back, useless, when he takes the hit right to the center of his chest. Heat shoots throughout his body as he falls and he blacks out just before he hits the ground.

 

Sam can hear Bucky shouting his name as he comes to. He tries to reach up for his goggles, but his limbs don’t seem to be working correctly. He groans, but it comes out as more of a whine. His body feels strange, but he’s alive and nothing feels broken, so at least there’s that. He blinks his eyes open and sees Bucky’s face above him, eyes wide and panicked.

He tries to clear his throat and tell Bucky he’s okay, but he can’t get the words out. He tries to push himself up into a sitting position and flops over, then pushes up onto all fours. Bucky makes a strangled noise. What the fuck is going on? He looks down at what should be his hands, and oh no.

No no no. 

He did not sign up for this.

Taking down a corrupt government organization? Chasing Bucky all over Europe for two years? Picking up the shield when Steve had finally put it down? Those are all things he signed up for.

Finding paws where his hands should be? That wasn’t part of the deal, not even in the fine print.

“Sam?” Bucky’s voice is shaky and uncertain. “Are you...it is you, right?”

Sam sits back on his haunches — because he has fucking haunches now — and sighs. Bucky studies him and Sam’s not sure what he sees, but apparently it’s enough to convince him the animal in front of him is actually Sam.

“Are you hurt?”

Sam shakes his head in response, then looks around for the rest of his team and the asshole who did this to him. They gather around him and Bucky, Rhodey shoving the handcuffed magician in front of him. Shit, this girl looks even younger than Kamala.

Bucky whirls around and grabs her by the collar. “What did you do?”

“I — I don’t know, I s-swear!” the kid stammers.

“Can you fix it?” Bucky growls.

The kid gulps and shakes her head. “I — I don’t think so?” 

“Wanda? What about you?” There’s a tinge of desperation in Bucky’s voice now.

“I could control the things she created, but I’m unable to undo the transformation. I made an attempt, but...” She gestures towards something that may once have been a park bench, but is now just a twisted mess of metal. Sam shivers at the sight. “I don’t want to risk it with Sam. There is something deeper going on here, something that I don’t think this one is capable of.”

The others continue to argue about what to do next, but Kamala comes and sits next to him on the grass. He cocks his head at her.

She lifts a hand and lets it hover over his head. “May I?”

He sighs and bows his head a little so that she can scratch behind his ears. As much as he doesn’t want it to, it feels pretty good. He lays down and puts his head on his front paws.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/152315641@N07/37338098542/in/album-72157688893789416/)

“You’re a very cute puppy. I think you might be a German Shepherd. In case you were wondering.” Sam huffs another little sigh, but allows Kamala to keep petting him. “Oh, it looks like we’re heading out. I’m assuming you’d rather walk than be carried?”

Sam stands up and shakes, then trots back toward their transport. Kamala laughs. “Well, that answers that.”

He glances back to see the team gathering up his gear, and then they all head out of the park and back to the Tower.

 

Steve is loitering outside the briefing room when they return. For all that he’s supposed to be retired, he still can’t quite bring himself to disconnect completely, especially when Bucky and Sam are involved in the mission. They may joke about Steve being their househusband who stays home worrying, but he does still get anxious sometimes about not being there to watch their backs.

Steve scans the group and visibly relaxes when Bucky turns the corner, then tenses up again when he sees that Bucky is holding the shield. “Where’s Sam?”

Bucky ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck. “Um, well, you see —”

“Bucky, where’s Sam?” Steve is panicked, scanning the group in the hallway frantically. Sam can hear Steve’s breath quicken and thinks maybe his canine senses are picking up on some fear he wouldn’t have noticed if he were human right now.

He gives a little bark and trots over to Steve, bumping his head against Steve’s knee. He sits back and looks up at Steve, who’s looking down at him with his mouth hanging open. Sam cocks his head to the side and Steve kneels down to get a closer look at him.

“Sam? Is it — what the hell happened out there?” He’s looking at the rest of the team now, but one hand is absent-mindedly stroking the side of Sam’s neck. Sam can’t help but lean into the touch.

Rhodey clears his throat. “The magician was transforming metal objects in the park into animals, of a sort. An errant beam of magic hit Sam, and well, here we are.”

“It’s my fault,” Bucky says. “If I hadn’t gotten in the way —”

Rhodey cuts him off. “If you hadn’t gotten in the way, it would have been Miles instead. Shit happens; this isn’t anyone’s fault.”

“Except the magician’s.” Steve stands, jaw clenched in a way that usually means trouble. “Where is he?”

“In SHIELD custody, where she belongs.” Rhodey crosses his arms over his chest. “This isn’t your fight, Steve. You’re retired, remember?”

Steve steps toward Rhodey. “But it’s _Sam._ ”

Rhodey doesn’t budge, just tilts his chin up slightly. “I’m aware of that. And believe me, I want to see him back to his normal Cap self just as much as anyone. But I’m also aware that there is more at stake here than one asshole magician with no clue what she’s doing. This is my team and my op, and we’re gonna deal with it my way. Got it, Steve?”

Sam sees Steve’s jaw tick and puts himself between him and Rhodey. He stands up on his hind legs, rests his front paws on Steve’s stomach, and pushes. He knows his weight isn’t enough to actually move Steve, but it does get his attention. Sam sits at Rhodey’s feet and stares up at Steve, doing his best to look serious rather than cute. He isn’t sure how well he’s doing, but Steve shakes himself a bit and takes a step back, hands up in surrender. 

“Yeah, sorry. Message received.”

Rhodey nods. “Good. Now let’s get this debrief over with. Sam, you want to sit in, or just head home with Steve?”

Sam considers his options. A part of him wants to participate in the debrief and prove he’s still himself, but he also recognizes he won’t actually be able to contribute. Plus he’s pretty tired from the whole ordeal. He moves from Rhodey’s side to sit next to Steve.

“Alright. I’ll send a report up with Barnes when we finish.” The rest of the team follows him into the room, but Bucky hangs back for a minute and takes a knee in front of Sam. He brings his right hand up to the side of Sam’s neck and strokes it gently.

“I’m so sorry, Sam. I wish— I should have paid more attention, known you were there.” Bucky hangs his head and Sam doesn’t have to be human to tell Bucky’s shouldering all the blame for what was obviously just an unfortunate accident. He turns and bites Bucky’s hand, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to get his attention. When Bucky looks up, he shakes his hand a bit and gives a small growl.

Steve chuckles from behind him. “Looks like Sam agrees with Rhodey. It wasn’t your fault, Buck.”

Bucky kisses the top of Sam’s head, which feels oddly familiar even if he is a dog, and stands up. “Yeah, yeah, like you wouldn’t be doing the exact same thing if it had been you out there.” 

He rubs the back of his neck and twists; Sam can hear his joints pop when he does and realizes he won’t be able to give Bucky his usual post-mission backrub. Well, maybe he could walk on his back, but it won’t be the same.

“I better get in there,” Bucky says, giving Steve a quick kiss and then turning to head into the briefing room.

When the door closes behind him, Sam gives an involuntary whine, and Steve kneels down to pet him again. “Don’t worry, Sam. I’m sure they’ll figure out what’s going on and get you back to normal in no time.” Sam looks over at him, hoping his skepticism is coming across. “In the meantime, why don’t we head home and see what we can do about supplies? I’m not sure what you’ll need, but I bet FRIDAY can help us out.”

Sam sighs, then stands and heads toward the elevator, Steve trailing behind him. Steve waits until the doors close behind them before he speaks again.

“I wonder why you ended up a puppy instead of a bird.” Steve sounds almost amused, and Sam rolls his eyes at him as best he can. Steve just laughs, and Sam stalks off the elevator when the door opens. Steve follows him.

“Aw, come on, you’ve gotta wonder — oh.”

They both stop and stare at the pile sitting in the living room of their suite. There are at least three different types of dog food, a vast assortment of treats, and toys of all shapes and sizes and materials. Sam goes over and sniffs hesitantly at the pile.

“What the…”

“If you’ll forgive me, sirs,” FRIDAY interrupts Steve. “Colonel Rhodes called ahead and explained the situation. He asked me to provide whatever you might need. He also asked me to prevent Mr. Stark from adding anything...insensitive to the order.”

Steve huffs a laugh. “He sure does know how Tony ticks. Did he try anything?”

“There may have been an order for custom engraved dog tags, but it appears to have gotten lost, sir.”

Steve comes over to where Sam is still investigating the pile. “I’m betting you wouldn’t have appreciated that, huh?” Sam barks in response, and Steve settles on the floor next to him. “Let’s see what we have here.”

Steve digs through the pile of toys in front of him, eventually coming up with a tennis ball. Sam’s tail starts wagging and his tongue lolls out of his mouth, both without any conscious thought on his part. Oh, hell no.

Steve raises an eyebrow. “You want the ball, huh?”

Sam tries not to bark, but he can’t help himself.

Steve’s grinning now. “You want it? You want me to throw it so you can chase it?”

Sam is _not_ going to chase the ball. He doesn’t care if he’s a puppy, he’s not going to chase the ball. Steve can wave it in front of his nose as much as he wants, but he’s not going to — _fuck_ he’s chasing the ball.

He skitters across the hardwood floor, his legs flailing and ungainly, and grabs the ball out of the air when it bounces off the wall. He trots back over to Steve, drops the ball in his lap, and sits. He tries to glare at Steve to communicate just how not entertaining this is, but his tail is thumping against the floor behind him and he can’t seem to make it stop.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/152315641@N07/37233838646/in/album-72157688893789416/)

Steve reaches out and scratches behind his ears, which absolutely does _not_ make his tail wag faster.

“Awww, come on, Sammy. Let yourself have a little fun.” Sam growls at the nickname, but Steve just laughs. He growls again, louder. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! You’re just really cute, okay?”

He turns around and walks away. He hops up on the couch and curls up with his back facing Steve. He doesn’t want to be cute. He wants to be _him_. Steve follows him, because of course he does, sitting next to him and laying a hand hesitantly on his back.

“Hey, really, I’m sorry. I won’t tease anymore. We’ll figure this out, okay? I promise.”

Sam huffs, but doesn’t move. The heavy weight of Steve’s hand strokes up and down his back, and actually feels better than he wants to admit. 

“And you know Captain America always keeps his promises.” If Sam could talk, he would remind Steve that he’s not actually Captain America anymore, but he sounds so sincere, so concerned, that Sam finally gives in. He resettles next to Steve, flush against his leg with his head resting on Steve’s thigh. Steve scratches behind his ears again, and this time he actually lets himself enjoy it.

 

He must have fallen asleep because he wakes up to Bucky and Steve’s voices coming from the kitchen. He stays where he is and listens to what they’re saying.

“So you don’t have any leads?” Steve asks, the worry evident in his voice.

“Nothing yet, but Hill said she has her best people working on it.” Steve scoffs at that. “Oh, come on. Her people are good and you know it.”

“It’s Sam, though. ‘Good’ isn’t good enough.” Steve’s voice is louder now, laced with frustration.

“And yelling at me is?” Bucky snaps back. He’s calmer when he speaks again. “Hill’s working on it, Rhodey’s working on it, everyone’s working on it. We’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. I just...I want him to be okay, Buck. He _has_ to be okay.”

“I know, I know.” There’s a rustle of cloth, and Sam thinks maybe Bucky has pulled Steve into a hug. “I’m right there with you. You know I am.” 

They’re quiet for a while, and when they speak again it’s about what the plan for dinner is. Sam takes the opportunity to hop off the couch and join them in the kitchen.

“Hey, Sam,” Bucky says. He continues working on whatever he’s making for dinner, but Steve squats down and scratches under his chin. 

“FRIDAY gave us some information about the breed of puppy you are. You interested?” Sam sits in front of him, tail thumping on the floor. Even though he’s hoping to be back to his human self sooner rather than later, he’s actually kind of curious.

Steve laughs, and picks up his tablet. “I’ll take that as a yes. According to FRIDAY, you’re a Belgian Malinois, probably around 3 months old. The Malinois is active, hard-working, protective, and friendly.” Steve pauses and looks down at him. “Sounds about right.”

“Does it say anything about them being a pain in the ass?” Bucky chimes in. “Cause that would make sense, too.” Sam barks at him for that, but it’s a playful one.

Steve grins. “Well, it does say they can be stubborn, which is about the same thing.” Sam nips at the hem of his sweatpants. It’s really not fair of them to give him shit when he can’t give it right back.

Steve goes back to reading off the tablet. “You apparently need a lot of exercise and socialization, so I guess we’ll get to play some more fetch.” Steve softens the teasing with a quick scratch behind Sam’s ear. “Oh, I hadn’t thought about that.”

Sam nudges Steve’s hand, urging him to share. “Yeah, sorry, um — food. What FRIDAY sent up is supposed to be really high quality, but it’s, well, it’s still kibble.”

Sam droops. He hadn’t thought about food earlier, but now that Steve’s mentioned it, it hits home that he’s not going to be eating Thai takeout or pizza any time soon (dogs should not eat pizza, no matter what Clint Barton says). He shouldn’t really be as upset as he is — it’s definitely not the most inconvenient thing about being transformed into a puppy — but apparently it’s one thing too many for him to deal with today.

He sighs and goes over the bags of food that have been piled in the corner. He sniffs hesitantly at the bags, but they’re all sealed. Bucky comes up behind him.

“Let’s open these up and see which one is the best.” Bucky opens the bags and dumps a few bites of each one right onto the floor, which is pretty disgusting. Sam tries not to think about it. He tentatively takes a few bites of each, but his puppy tastebuds don’t seem to mind the taste and the few bites make him realize how hungry he actually is. He nudges at the best one, and Bucky pours a cup into the dish FRIDAY had provided. He pets Sam on the head before he goes back to his cooking.

He finishes his dinner and considers staying in the kitchen with Steve and Bucky, but even with the nap on the couch, he feels tired all the way down to his bones. He slips away and goes down the hallway to their room, only to realize the door is shut and he can’t exactly turn the knob. This is his life for the foreseeable future — completely dependent and essentially useless. He knows he should just go back to the kitchen and get Steve or Bucky to come open the door, but he can’t bring himself to just quite yet. He flops down in the hallway and allows himself a small whine.

FRIDAY must hear him, because the door to the bedroom pops open and the bedside lamp turns on. If it were any other day, he’d probably be at least a little disturbed by that level of automation, but tonight he’s just grateful. He eyes their bed warily, then rears up on his hind legs to see just how tall it really is. He takes a couple of steps back and then leaps up onto it with plenty of room to spare. He lies down next to his pillow, then immediately stands back up and turns a few circles to get the blankets arranged how he wants, promising to never again laugh when a dog did that in front of him.

When he finally has a comfortable little nest, he curls up, closes his eyes, and goes to sleep.

 

Sam wakes briefly when Steve and Bucky come to bed, but the next time he’s fully awake and aware of his surroundings, Bucky is dead to the world next to him and Steve is shaking him gently. 

“Ready for our run?” Steve asks cheerily, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/152315641@N07/37317006665/in/album-72157688893789416/)

Sam lays his head back down and gives him a withering glare. He understood the value of a daily run when he was human, even if he did frequently wish Steve was capable of sleeping in a little bit, but he’s a three month old puppy - what’s the fucking point?

“Aw, come on.” Steve comes over and sits on the edge of the bed, hand coming up to scratch behind Sam’s ear. Damn, that feels good. “Think of it this way — I can’t let you run off leash, so I won’t be able to lap you 5 times.”

Sam huffs and begrudgingly hops off the bed. Steve follows behind him and Sam doesn’t have to look to know he’s grinning like an idiot. When he gets to the door, he turns back to look for Steve. He’s standing a few feet away from Sam, holding a leash and harness and looking sheepish. Steve sees him looking and blushes, ducking his head and rubbing the back of his neck.

“So, um, I kind of have to…” Steve sighs, then comes over to kneel down in front of Sam and clip the leash and harness on. “I’m so sorry about this, Sam. I wish...I hate that there’s nothing I can do.”

Sam tries to roll his eyes, but apparently that’s not something dogs can do. He huffs in frustration, shifting his weight back on forth on his front paws. Steve’s still looking down at the leash, his face all sad and pitiful. Sam huffs again and does what he can to get Steve’s attention: he leans forward and licks his face.

“What the fuck!?” Steve jolts back in surprise and wipes at his face. He stands up, leash in hand and looks down at Sam who just looks right back up at him. “Alright, alright. I get it. Let’s go for our run.”

Sam perks up once they're outside. It’s a nice day and it’s good to be out of the apartment. He does wish his sense of smell wasn’t quite so good, though; there are a lot of things he’s picking up that he never noticed when he was human, and not all of them are pleasant. All of his senses are a bit overwhelmed; the world looks and sounds very different from just a couple of feet off the ground.

They turn into the park and things get at least a little bit quieter. Steve looks down at him. 

“Ready?”

Sam trots forward and pulls on the leash, and Steve moves into a slow jog. A very slow jog. Sam speeds up until he’s running full-out, even though he knows he won’t be able to maintain the pace for very long. Even then, Steve might as well be going for a casual stroll.

He looks over at Steve, which ends up being a huge mistake because in his distraction, he somehow gets his paws tangled up and trips over his own feet, falling over onto the path. He recovers quickly and starts running again, but his embarrassment only increases when he realizes that Steve is laughing hysterically at him. While still keeping pace.

Sam leans in and nips at Steve’s ankle, not enough to hurt, just enough to make him miss a step. He’s laughing too hard to correct his balance and topples over into the grass, still laughing. Sam pounces on him, growling playfully in his face. Steve pushes him off, but Sam just jumps right back on him and before he knows it, the two of them are wrestling around in the grass and the mud, leash getting tangled around them, Steve cracking up and Sam barking joyfully.

Eventually Sam tires out and flops down on the grass panting. Steve lays beside him, eyes closed and face tilted toward the sun, one hand lazily stroking Sam’s back. His hand is big and warm and Sam never wants him to stop.

After a few minutes, though, Steve sits up and looks down at his muddy pants, then over at Sam. “Well, we’re a mess. Whaddaya say we finish the loop, then head back and get cleaned up?”

Sam barks in agreement and stands. He gets close to Steve and then shakes as much of the mud off of him as he can. When he’s finished, Steve is looking down at him, arms crossed, clearly trying not to smile.

“Thanks, asshole,” Steve says, kicking his foot out at Sam, although it’s really just a gentle nudge. He tugs the leash and sets an easy pace for the jog home.

 

When they get back to the apartment, Bucky’s in the kitchen in his black tac pants and gray compression shirt, various knives strapped to his body. He sees Sam and smiles.

“Well, looks like someone had fun.” Sam smiles back at him as best he can, tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth.

“You got a mission?” Sam can hear the worry in Steve’s voice. “Is it the magician?”

“Yes and no,” Bucky replies. “Just your run-of-the-mill Hydra cell popping up for us to play whack-a-mole with.”

“Oh, okay.” Sam can tell Steve wants to say more, probably to ask why Rhodey has them on a Hydra mission when the magician situation still isn’t resolved. He keeps his mouth shut though, which is progress. 

Bucky kneels down to scratch behind Sam’s ears. “I shouldn’t be gone long. Don’t let Steve do anything stupid.” Sam licks his cheek in response.

“Hey!” Steve protests.

Bucky smirks up at him. “Aw, come on. You know you need someone to keep you in line.”

Steve huffs and puts his hands on his hips, but Bucky just stands up, finishes saying his goodbyes and heads out the door. Steve turns his attention back to Sam.

“Guess it’s just you and me for a bit. How about we get you cleaned up, then maybe put on a movie?”

Sam barks in agreement and trots off to the bathroom. The dried mud is starting to itch, but not enough to distract him from thinking about how Steve is about to give him a bath. This has actually happened once before, a few months after they moved into the Tower and when Steve was still Captain America. He thinks it was aliens they were fighting, maybe, but whatever it was, Steve jumped off something tall, expecting Sam to catch him. He did, of course, but then a piece of falling debris slammed into him and he landed badly and broke his leg.

The cast made showering difficult and Steve felt guilty, so there ended up being a bath and while it was a bit awkward, Sam does look back on the memory fondly. It had been nice, being pampered and fussed over, even if it wasn’t the kind of thing he normally bothered Steve or Bucky about. And it had ended with some slippery, wet kisses and maybe a few roaming hands. 

But he’s not thinking about that right now, because he’s a puppy. And that would be weird.

Steve follows him into the bathroom and turns the water on, then kneels down to unbuckle his collar. It’s caked in mud, so Steve sets it on the edge of the tub to be cleaned also. He scratches Sam’s neck where the collar normally sits.

“Alright, let’s get you taken care of.” Sam stiffens as Steve scoops him up in his arms and places him gently in the tub. The water laps against his paws and he shies away from it whimpering. 

“Too hot?” Steve asks, adjusting the temperature. “How’s that?”

Sam steps cautiously into the water that’s now pleasantly warm rather than scalding. He’s distracted by the feeling of his paws on the slippery porcelain of the tub, so he doesn’t notice the large cup in Steve’s hand until it’s being dumped over him. He snaps his head back toward Steve and growls.

Steve laughs. “Sorry, but the whole point of this is to actually get you clean.” Sam huffs, then stands very still as Steve pours water over him again — more gently this time — and then starts rubbing shampoo into his fur. Steve’s hands are strong, but he is so gentle with Sam, soothing him even as he scrubs him clean, and Sam shivers when he drags his nails down his back to loosen the mud.

“This is actually kind of nice.” Sam cocks his head at Steve in disbelief. “I mean, not that you’re a puppy, obviously. That’s not good. But getting to take care of you for a change? I’m not gonna lie — I’m enjoying it.” 

There’s a small, lopsided smile on Steve’s face. Sam can’t respond, but he wouldn’t know what to say if he could.

“Ever since you took up the shield, you’ve been going pretty much nonstop. And you know I get that — that’s just how the job is sometimes.” Steve continues to wash Sam as he talks, rinsing out the suds and making sure he doesn’t miss any spots. “But even when you come home, it’s like you’re always looking for ways to take care of me or Bucky without ever letting anyone take care of you.”

Sam turns his head towards Steve at that, giving him what he hopes is an approximation of pointedly raised eyebrows. Apparently it works.

“I know, I know. I’m one to talk. But hey, I did actually retire. That’s a step, at least.” He pours another cup of water over Sam to wash the last remnants of the shampoo out.

“I feel like an idiot, talking to myself.” Sam licks Steve’s hand to remind him that he’s right there. “Yeah, yeah, I know you’re here. But I, well...I guess I miss hearing your voice.” Steve shakes his head. “Ugh, that was sappy. Sorry.”

Sam wishes he could tell him not to apologize; he knows that Steve is allergic to talking about his feelings, but it’s really nice to hear it. He kind of hopes Steve will keep going, but he just clears his throat, turns the water off, and pulls a towel down off the towel bar.

“Alright, let’s get you dried off and then we can go find a movie to watch.”

They watch _Singin’ in the Rain_ because Steve loves musicals and while Sam would normally tease him for it, he actually likes this one. Plus he can’t say anything anyway, which he’s pretty sure is why Steve took the opportunity to pick a musical in the first place. They sit together on the couch, Sam pressed up against Steve’s thigh and Steve’s hand resting on his back, petting him lazily on occasion, until the movie ends and it’s time for them to go to bed.

 

Sam wakes in the middle of the night to the sound of voices in the living room.

“Why aren’t you in medical?”

“Because it’s not that bad!”

“You got shot!” Sam jumps off the bed and moves quickly into the hall.

“And how many times have _you_ actually stayed in medical because of a couple of lousy bullets, huh?”

Sam turns the corner into the living room, while Steve sputters. “Well, you’re supposed to be the smart one!”

Bucky’s slumped against Steve, still wearing all of his tactical gear. He’s got his right arm held close to his torso and there’s blood leaking into a bandage tied around his leg. He sighs and looks up at Steve.

“Will you just help me get this shit off and get to bed?”

Steve clenches his jaw and Sam can see he wants to keep arguing, but he doesn’t. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Steve starts to head towards their shared bedroom, but Bucky stops him. “Nah, put me in the other room. You know you can’t keep your hands to yourself and I don’t want to wake up in pain from being strangled by an octopus.”

They hobble together to the room they keep in the apartment for situations just like this, when one of them wants or needs a night to themselves for whatever reason. Sam knows he’s essentially useless right now, but he follows them anyway, unable to make himself return to bed. He stands in the doorway and watches as Steve maneuvers Bucky onto the bed and helps him get his gear off, muttering under his breath the whole time.

“Hey, watch it!” Bucky protests when Steve yanks his pants off. The makeshift bandage on his leg is soaked through with blood and Sam can’t stop looking at it. If he had actual hands right now, he could be over there, helping Steve, bandaging Bucky’s wounds, _doing something_. But he doesn’t, so he can’t, and it’s killing him. All he can do is watch as Steve gets Bucky into a pair of boxers and changes the bandage on his thigh, hands moving more gently than before. 

Sam realizes he may not be able to help with the bandages, but he can provide Bucky with some comfort, maybe. When Steve leaves for a moment to get a washcloth, Sam goes over and jumps up onto the bed, being careful to land far enough away to not jostle Bucky too much. He sits close enough that Bucky can reach out with his left arm and pet him if he wants, but not so close that he’ll be in the way. He hopes it helps, even if it is Bucky’s metal hand instead of actual skin contact.

Steve finishes cleaning Bucky up, then grabs the back of Bucky’s neck and presses their foreheads together. 

“No more getting hurt out there, got it?” Steve says, shaking Bucky’s head a little bit. “This is the last time you’re allowed to be injured.” Sam huffs in Bucky’s face in agreement.

“Yeah, okay, pal,” Bucky says wryly. “I’ll just stay home and you can keep me wrapped in cotton wool from here on out. Fuck saving the world.”

Steve laughs softly, then kisses Bucky hard and desperate. Sam leans in and licks at their mouths, causing both of them to back up and groan. 

“You know, that’s usually a lot less disgusting, Sam.” Bucky wipes his mouth, but he’s smiling, which is exactly what Sam wanted. He gives them a smug doggy grin and licks Bucky’s face again.

Steve leans in and gives Bucky another quick kiss, hand warm on Sam’s head as he does. “Love you.” He turns to Sam. “And you, too. You gonna stay here, or come back to bed with me?”

Sam answers by flopping down next to Bucky on the bed.

Steve grins. “Well, that answers that. Wake me up if you need anything — I mean it.”

“Alright, alright.” Bucky waves him off. “Let me sleep.”

Steve closes the door behind him and Bucky shifts toward Sam, then lifts his left arm. Sam stretches out against his side, resting his head on Bucky’s chest just below where metal becomes flesh. Bucky’s fingers brush against his back in a slow, steady rhythm until they both fall asleep.

 

Rhodey drops by the apartment a few days later to see how Bucky’s doing, and Sam is thrilled to have the distraction. He’s tired of not being able to do much more than watch TV and play fetch, Bucky’s been getting increasingly grumpy about Steve’s mother-henning, and it’s becoming abundantly clear that Steve has not been adjusting to retirement as well as he’d thought. They were going to have to do something about that eventually. 

Bucky assures Rhodey that he’ll be right as rain in a day or two, but that’s not the only reason Rhodey came by — he’s also got some news about the magician.

“Hill says there are rumblings of something big going down in Central Park tonight. Hopefully we’ll be able to catch whoever’s behind this and get you back to normal, Sam.”

Sam barks in response, wagging his tail so hard it makes the whole back half of his body shake. He can tell that Rhodey is trying not to laugh at him, but he’s too excited about the possibility of being human again to care.

“Are you gonna be able to handle this guy with your team down two people?” Steve asks, that line between his eyebrows appearing like it always does when he’s worried.

“We’ll be fine. I called in Dr. Strange, since we’re dealing with a magic-user and Carol’s back from Alpha Flight for a few days, so she’s gonna tag along.”

“Carol’s in town, huh?” Bucky smirks. “This your idea of a date?”

Rhodey rolls his eyes. “None of your business, Barnes.”

“Actually, I take it back. Knowing what I do of Carol, she was probably the one to suggest it. She seems the type to find punching things together the height of romance.” 

“Seriously, though,” Steve interjects. “If you need the help, I could pitch in. I’m still—”

“Steve...”

“Really,” both Bucky and Rhodey interrupt him, but Rhodey’s the one who continues. “We’ve got it. This isn’t end-of-the-world stuff; it’s one magician who’s bitten off a bit more than he can chew. Stay here, take care of your guys, be retired.”

“Yeah, okay.” Sam can tell that Steve is still frustrated, and he knows how that feels. It’s killing him that he can’t go out and help his team. He goes over to where Steve is sitting and hops up so his front paws are resting on Steve’s knees. When Steve reaches out to pet him, Sam licks his fingers and gets a smile out of him. “Okay. We’ll hold down the fort here.”

Rhodey nods and gives Steve an understanding smile. “Good. With any luck, you’ll have your boyfriend back before tomorrow morning and there will plenty of cause to celebrate when we get back.”

After Rhodey leaves, they eat dinner and watch TV, but Sam can tell that neither Steve or Bucky is really paying attention. Steve’s knee is bouncing up and down so much it’s shaking the whole couch, even after Bucky sticks his legs in his lap to stop him, and eventually Sam gets so annoyed that he jumps off and moves to the chair on the other side of the room.

“Sorry,” Steve says sheepishly, picking at a thread sticking out of the seam of Bucky’s pajama pants. “I’m just...you know.”

“I think we all are.” Bucky sighs and turns off the TV. “I’m exhausted, though. I’m gonna go to bed.”

He gets up and holds a hand out to Steve, but Steve just shakes his head. “I’d just keep you up tossing and turning.”

Bucky shrugs and heads to the bedroom. Sam hops down to follow him, but stops at the end table next to Steve first. There’s a book about mindfulness sitting on it that Steve is ostensibly reading on his therapist’s recommendation, but Sam hasn’t seen the bookmark move in weeks. He picks it up in his mouth and drops it onto Steve’s lap.

Steve laughs at him and shakes his head. “Yeah, okay, I get it. I’ll try.” He gives Sam a few scratches behind the ears and drops a kiss onto the top of his head. “Go keep Bucky company.”

 

It can’t be more than a few hours later when all the alarms start going off and FRIDAY’s voice fills the bedroom.

“Sirs, it appears that the Tower is under attack.”

Steve and Bucky scramble out of bed, pulling on whatever tactical gear they have close at hand. Steve’s halfway to the shield when he turns and looks back at Sam on the bed, guilt written all over his face.

Sam barks, wishing like never before that he could talk so he could tell Steve to just _go_. Steve gets the picture, though, and gathers up his gear. Sam jumps off the bed and follows Steve and Bucky into the elevator just as the doors close. No fucking way are they going to leave him behind. 

“FRIDAY, what do we have?” Bucky asks.

“There are six attackers, all with some form of magical powers. They all appear to be in their late teens and early twenties, just like the young woman who caused Captain Wilson’s transformation.”

“Any weapons?”

“Nothing visible, although they do seem to be capable of turning their surroundings into projectiles.”

“Who else is in the Tower?” Steve is still pulling his boots on as the elevator approaches the lobby.

“The rest of the Avengers and Director Hill’s team are on the mission in Central Park, and Mr. Stark is in California. The security guards that were in the lobby have already been incapacitated. I have alerted Colonel Rhodes to the situation and they are on the way back.”

Sam looks up at Steve and Bucky. Steve is supposed to be retired and Bucky still has his right arm in a sling and a pretty noticeable limp. This is not good.

But they’re out of time. The elevator doors slide open and they’re in the lobby, chairs and tables and potted plants swirling in the air. Sam can see Steve taking in the situation, strategizing his next move, when all of a sudden another magician joins the fray.

Glass shatters as the newcomer flies in through one of the tall windows, beams of light shooting out from his hands. Steve puts the shield up, making sure to keep Sam covered, but it’s not necessary; he’s shooting at their attackers, not them.

The magician zips over and hovers in the air above them. “Captain! Winter Soldier! I was passing by and heard the alarms — please allow me to assist!”

“Who the fuck is this guy?” Bucky mutters.

It’s a fair question. This dude isn’t anyone Sam has seen before, and he’s had plenty of contact with most of the street-level heroes in New York. Plus his look is way more flashy than the type of thing they normally wear — much more Loki than Luke Cage. His fire engine red dreadlocks are a strain on the eyes and he’s even wearing an actual, honest-to-god cape.

“If you can help us keep anyone from getting hurt, we’d be glad to have the help,” Steve calls back, but the new guy has drawn the other magicians’ attention and there’s no more time for introductions. Sam hangs back as Steve and Bucky jump into the skirmish, deflecting flying objects and beams of magic and trying to get close enough to stop them. Maybe he should have stayed upstairs after all; he hates every minute that he has to watch without being able to help.

Two of the attackers are down, knocked out cold, and Bucky’s got another one wrapped around a pillar with what appears to be his own cloak when one of the girls pops up behind Steve. Sam barks loudly to get his attention, and he turns just as she takes aim.

Steve blocks the blast with the shield, but the force knocks him back into the new magician, whose head cracks loudly on the floor. Sam yelps, but Steve rolls onto his feet, ready to jump back into the fight. Except the remaining fighters have stopped and are looking around at each other in confusion.

“What’s...what’s going on?” one of the kids stammers, the blood draining out of their already pale face. They look down at the magician. “Why is he fighting us?”

“What do you mean?” Steve asks. “You attacked us!”

Another girl chimes in, tossing her microbraids out of her face and pointing at the magician laying unconscious on the floor. “Because he told us to!”

“You decided to attack Avengers Tower because some guy in a cape told you to?” Bucky limps over with Sam by his side.

The girl shrugs. “He said he would pay us enough to cover our student loans. And then when some of us still hesitated, he cast some sort of spell over us. It wasn’t mind control exactly, just something that made everything he said seem like a really good idea. And gave us a power boost.”

“Sounds like a standard persuasion charm mixed with power-sharing enhancement.” Dr. Strange swoops into the lobby with the rest of the Avengers and Sam’s pretty sure he knows where the magician got the idea for the ridiculous outfit.

Rhodey steps up. “Must not have been too strong a charm — as soon as we showed up, the kids in the park seemed to realize just how dumb the idea was and surrendered. Hill’s people are taking their statements right now. I’ll get started with the ones here that aren’t knocked out.” 

The magician groans and blinks his eyes open. Sam follows his gaze to the semicircle of superheroes glaring down — Wanda and her slightly glowing hands, Miles and Kamala in their masks, Steve and his clenched jaw of righteousness, the Winter fucking Soldier — and actually feels sorry for the guy for a moment. Then he remembers this guy is the reason he’s a goddamn puppy and the moment’s gone.

Sam puts his front paws on the magician’s chest and growls, a clear message to stay down. The magician does.

“You have 10 seconds to tell me what the fuck you think you’re doing,” Steve growls at him.

“Captain America just said fuck,” the magician says, clearly not quite thinking straight.

“I’m not Captain America — he is.” Steve points at Sam, who’s still half on top of the magician. “And I’m beginning to suspect that you’re the reason he looks like that right now, so I would start talking if I were you.”

The magician tries to move into a seated position and Sam lets him. He slides back so that he’s leaning against the wall, rubs the back of his head, and groans.

“Who are you?” Steve is losing what little patience he has, and quickly. Bucky reaches over and squeezes his forearm, and Steve takes a breath. “Why are you here?”

“I — I told you! I heard the alarms and thought I could help!”

Rhodey steps into the circle, arms crossed. “Your little apprentice magicians over there say otherwise, so how about you try again, _Red Mage_.” The rest of the team tries to disguise their laughter at the magician’s name, but they don’t do a very good job of it.

“Isn’t that...just a lamer version of Scarlet Witch?” Miles mutters to Kamala, not very quietly.

The bewildered look slips off the magician’s face and is replaced by one of sheer stubbornness. “Okay, fine. I planned it. But only because I want to be an Avenger and it was the only way I could think of to get anyone’s attention.” 

“You planned an attack on the Tower so that you could what, swoop in and prove you were a hero?” Steve sounds incredulous, and Sam’s pretty sure that Bucky’s about to start laughing any minute.

“...yes,” Red Mage mumbles.

Kamala snorts. “Yeah, okay, Syndrome.”

“Really? An _Incredibles_ reference?” Miles raises an eyebrow at Kamala, who just rolls her eyes at him.

“Oh, like you weren’t thinking it too.” Kamala turns her attention back to Red Mage, but Sam can see that Miles is blushing. He’d definitely been thinking it.

“Okay, maybe it wasn’t the best plan.” There’s a distinct whine in Red Mage’s voice now. “But I’m an awesome magician and I could be an awesome Avenger — I just need a chance!”

“If you think this is the way to get one, you have no idea what being an Avenger is really all about,” Rhodey says.

“I can learn! I promise!”

Steve’s patience runs out and he leans over, grabs the magician by the collar, and yanks him up off the floor and onto his feet. His voice is calm, but there’s steel behind it. “What is your actual name, Red Mage?”

“Xavier,” he squeaks.

“You listen to me very carefully, Xavier. You seem like a halfway decent kid. Or at least not a complete asshole. But you endangered civilians, turned my boyfriend into a puppy, and woke me up in the middle of the night, and I’m not exactly thrilled about any of that.”

Xavier’s eyes are wide with fear — an understandable reaction, since Steve can be really fucking terrifying when he wants to be — and Steve pulls him even closer. “In a moment, I am going to let go of you. When I do, you are going to turn Captain America back into his human self. Then you will apologize to him for causing this whole mess and to the rest of the team for wasting their time and resources. Then you will do exactly what Colonel Rhodes tells you to do, without complaint or hesitation. Understand?”

Xavier gulps and nods. Steve puts him down and Sam bounces anxiously on his paws. He doesn’t think this guy has the desire — or the nerve — to do anything but change him back, but magic is always tricky and there are a lot worse things to be than a puppy. Like dead, for instance.

Xavier faces him and a golden light comes from his hands and surrounds Sam. He doesn’t remember the last transformation, but he’s aware of this one. It’s not painful, not really, more like a so-deep-it’s-almost-painful kind of stretch as he feels muscle and bone shift and grow. He’s surrounded by warm light and imagines that from the outside this looks like some real Disney shit; all that’s missing is the swelling music.

The light gets brighter and he closes his eyes until he can feel his human feet flat on the marble floor and a blanket of some kind is wrapped around his shoulders. He opens his eyes and looks down to see Red Mage’s cape.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/152315641@N07/37233812456/in/album-72157688893789416/)

“Really?” He looks up at Bucky, who’s moved in close with Steve.

Bucky shrugs. “Considering all you’re wearing right now is a collar, I wouldn’t complain too much.”

Sam looks over at Steve for help, but Steve is just staring at his throat, which is...interesting, but not something he’s willing to think about until he’s much farther away from the experience of being an actual puppy. He reaches up to unclasp the collar that has magically expanded to fit his human neck and drops it to the ground.

Steve and Bucky both stare at him for a beat and he’s about to ask if something’s wrong when all of a sudden he’s wrapped up in their arms, both of them clinging to him a bit too tightly. He’s actually having a little trouble breathing, but he can’t bring himself to care. He’s human and Steve and Bucky are hugging him and this whole ridiculous experience is over.

He peeks over their shoulders just to check that it really is over and is glad to see that the team has everything well in hand. Miles and Kamala are dealing with the apprentice magicians. Dr. Strange has swanned off to wherever it is he goes. Carol is standing with Rhodey as he talks on the phone with who Sam assumes is Maria Hill. And Xavier is handcuffed and sitting on the ground against a pillar, looking absolutely pathetic. 

Wanda comes over to them holding a pair of pants. “I figured you’d appreciate these.”

“Thanks.” Steve and Bucky release Sam so that he can pull them on under the cape. “How’re you feeling about ol’ Red Mage over there trying to steal your thunder?”

“I’m not too worried.” Wanda’s smile is sharp, but there’s a sparkle in her eye. “Besides, I know a little about good motivations leading to misguided actions.”

Sam nods. “I guess you do.” He gives her a hug, then looks back over at Xavier. He turns to Steve and Bucky. “Gimme a sec, and then we can head upstairs.”

They look at him with matching soft eyes and sappy smiles. If Sam weren’t completely thrilled to be seeing those looks at eye-level instead of from knee-level, he might have given them shit about it.

Instead, he just smiles sappily back, then walks over and crouches down next to Xavier. He barely looks any older than his apprentices; no way was he going to be able to follow through on that school loan payoff promise.

“Hey.” 

Sam keeps his tone as even as possible, but Xavier keeps staring at the ground, apparently unable to look Sam in the face. 

“Hey.” 

“So you want to be an Avenger, huh?”

Xavier just shrugs.

“Why?”

He looks up at that. “Huh?”

“Why do you want to be an Avenger?”

Xavier looks back down at his hands, twisting his wrists in the cuffs. Sam eyes the movement, making sure they’re not too tight.

“I mean, I got these powers? And like, they’re okay and all, but being a magician isn’t exactly _cool_ , you know? Unless you’re a hero like Scarlet Witch or Dr. Strange or something.” 

“You realize that’s a pretty shitty reason to want to be an Avenger, right?” Xavier just shrugs. “Look, all of us Avengers, we didn’t end up here just because we couldn’t think of anything better to do. We do what we do because we want to help people, sure, but we’ve got some serious issues, too, man. There’s all kinds of savior complexes and misplaced blame and chips-on-the-shoulder on this team. I mean, Miles and Kamala are a bit more well-adjusted, but the superhero gig...it’s not really something I would recommend as a career path for everyone.”

“But I’m not good at anything else! All I’ve got is magic, and if I can’t be a superhero, then what am I going to do?”

Sam’s pretty sure it’s not the only thing the kid has, but he knows that telling him that isn’t going to make a difference right now. “You ever heard of Patsy Walker?”

“Hellcat?”

“Yeah. She’s got a new temp agency going that specializes in helping people with powers who don’t necessarily want to be a part of the hero game find work.”

Xavier considers the thought, but then raises his hands. “That’s cool, but I don’t think that’s gonna help me much when I’m sitting in a jail cell.” 

“True. But since you didn’t do any permanent damage, I could put in a good word for you with Director Hill. Maybe get you some community service and mandatory training classes instead.”

Xavier looks up at him, shocked. “You’d do that? After...after everything?”

Sam nods. “Yeah, yeah I would. There are very few people I’ve met in my life who don’t deserve a second chance.”

“Uh, thanks, Cap. Really.” Xavier looks like he’s going to need some time to recover from his mind being blown.

“Just do something worthwhile the opportunity, okay? That’s all the thanks I need.”

Sam clasps Xavier’s shoulder briefly, then stands and heads back to Steve and Bucky, who are still looking at him like he hung the moon. Rhodey intercepts him and wraps him in a hug.

“Really good to see you, man,” Rhodey says, thumping Sam firmly on the back.

“Really good to be seen.” Sam thumps him back just as hard and they both laugh.

“You wanna help us wrap this up?” Rhodey asks, gesturing toward the mess in the lobby.

Sam considers it for a moment, but he’s exhausted. “Nah, it looks like things are under control. All I really want to do is go sleep for about a million years.”

“Sleep, huh?” Bucky slips his left arm around Sam’s waist and kisses the edge of his jaw. Sam suspects he does it partly to be sweet and partly because his leg has to be killing him at this point.

He turns and levels Bucky with a look. “Yes, sleep. You can keep your hands to yourself until I’ve been human again for at least 24 hours.”

Bucky pouts at that, but Sam can tell he doesn’t really mean it. Steve just pulls him into another tight hug, whispering in his ear how glad he is that Sam’s okay. The three of them are almost to the elevator when Kamala calls them back.

“Oh, Sam! Wait!” He turns to see her stretch her arm across the lobby and pick up the shield. She crosses the lobby in just a few long steps and hands it to him. “Don’t want to forget this!” 

Sam disentangles himself from Steve and Bucky and takes it from her. The weight of it feels good in his hands, solid and grounding. “Thanks, Kamala.”

“Have a good night!” she says cheerily before rejoining the group.

The elevator ride back up to the apartment is quiet, the three of them leaning against each other and just enjoying the closeness. They stay quiet as they get ready to head back to bed, Bucky and Steve both finding excuses to touch Sam as they move around each other — a hand cupping his elbow, a palm pressed to the small of his back, a brush of fingers against his skin. It’s like they’ve been starving for him, unmoored, and now that he’s himself again he’s overwhelmed by how much they love him and how much he loves them.

They climb into bed and Sam lets them put him in the middle even though he knows it means he’ll wake up sweaty and overheated. Steve’s arm is around his waist and Bucky’s fingers are tangled in his and he can’t bring himself to care.

Just as he’s about to drift off, Bucky breaks the silence.

“You know…”

“Hmm?” Sam grunts, not opening his eyes.

“It would be a real shame to let all those dog supplies go to waste.”

Sam opens one eye and squints at the soft, pleading look on Bucky’s face.

“That’s a really good point, Buck.” Steve adds. “I was just reading the other day about how overfilled the shelters are and how desperately they need people to adopt.”

“It’d actually be selfish of us to _not_ adopt a dog, if you really think about.” A grin spreads across Bucky’s face.

Sam just closes his eyes again and smiles. “We can go take a look tomorrow, you assholes. Now go to sleep.”

 

_Two months later_

Sam and Steve are cuddling on the couch, ostensibly watching Project Runway, but actually mostly making out.

Steve breaks the kiss and cups Sam’s face with his hand, rubbing a thumb across his cheekbone. “I’m so proud of you for saying no to the mission this weekend. You’ve never done that before.”

“Well, my boyfriends have never gotten me tickets to Beyoncé before,” Sam jokes.

“Sam,” Steve says, looking serious.

Sam rolls his eyes and flops back onto the couch. “Oh my god, it’s not a big deal.”

“It _is_ a big deal,” Steve pulls Sam back towards him. “Not that long ago you would have cancelled all your plans if Rhodey called, even if you had just gotten back from weeks in the field and it was a mission that didn’t really require your skills, like this time. It’s good to see you taking care of yourself.”

“Yeah, okay.” Sam shrugs, embarrassed by Steve’s insistence. “I’m proud of you too, mister volunteer firefighter.”

Steve blushes at Sam’s teasing tone. “It’s been really great. Feels good to be _doing_ something again, but without all the drama.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll manage to create some drama eventually.”

“Hey!” Steve protests, tickling Sam in retaliation and sending him into a fit of laughter that is definitely not giggling.

Bucky comes in then, followed closely by Nina, the pit-mix they adopted a few weeks ago. She loves all of them, but for some reason feels the need to always keep Bucky in sight when he’s in the apartment.

“You two are so sweet, talking about how much you’ve grown. Pretty soon you’ll be as well-adjusted as me.”

Sam and Steve both look down at the bruised, possibly broken, ribs that Bucky had refused to have checked out in medical.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m a work in progress.” Bucky flops down on the couch, winces, and plops his legs in Sam’s lap.

Nina flops down onto her bed, too, and promptly falls asleep, tongue poking out of her mouth.

“Aw, look! She looks just like Sammy!”

Sam flicks Bucky’s knee. “Excuse you?”

“You did the same little tongue thing when you were a puppy,” Steve explains.

“I did not.”

“Yeah, you did. I have proof.” Bucky pulls out his phone and scrolls past pictures of Sam in his puppy form covered in mud, wearing a flower crown, with a frisbee in his mouth, and then finally, asleep on the couch with his legs sprawled everywhere and his tongue poking out just like Nina’s.

Sam sighs. “You’re never gonna delete those, are you?”

Bucky grins. “I’m really, really not.”

Steve laughs and squeezes him in a hug, Bucky leans in for a kiss, and Sam lets them.


End file.
